


It's Such a Fine Line

by Tabithian



Series: Set My Mind to Wandering [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a shocking twist, it's actually pretty hard to get away with shady business practices and under the table dealings when a building goes up in a fiery explosion caught on film with your name involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Such a Fine Line

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a while now, so. *hands*

In a shocking twist, it's actually pretty hard to get away with shady business practices and under the table dealings when a building goes up in a fiery explosion caught on film with your name involved.

Also the thing where there was a contract out Tim's life, little bit of torture tossed in to add some spice to the story, but that's more of a footnote than anything else in the whole sordid story. 

What it all boils down to is a lot of legal proceedings and Tim's parents facing jail in some capacity in the end. Other things Tim's choosing not to dwell on at the moment because hey, denial is great. Anyone who says otherwise has no idea what they're talking about. 

“So, what. You live here on your own, now?”

Tim shrugs, tries – ineffectually – to shove Jason's feet off the coffee table. It's been in the Drake family for generations, family heirloom and all, and Tim has no way of knowing where Jason's boots have been.

Tim's distracted, _tired_ , which is the only reason he can think of that he starts to explain his current living situation.

“Technically, I live at the manor now - “ Tim starts to say - annoyed at Jason and his everything as the jerk sprawls, feet tapping along to whatever song is stuck in his head this time – and then he remembers this is _Jason_ he's talking to.

Jason, who apparently roamed Europe like some kind of roving vigilante for a few years after dying and somehow coming back to life. (There's a part of Tim really wants, needs to know the how and why of it, but there's an even bigger part that doesn't, because Jason gets this _look_ on his face sometimes when they get close to the subject.)

Jason, who hasn't even bothered to change out of the Red Hood suit, like he doesn't know about super paranoid Bats and all-seeing, all-knowing Oracles. (As though Tim hasn't told him, as though Jason doesn't _know_ these crazy people in their lives.)

Jason, who's started wearing a helmet like he's only just realized his little...game with Bruce and Dick and Barbara will be over that much faster if he just uses the domino to hide his identity. He seems to be dealing with his issues when it comes to Bruce, and okay, Dick, by taking a perverse sort of joy in taunting Bruce and Dick and whoever he runs into on patrol. (They still haven't managed to crack the mystery of who the Red Hood is, although to be fair to them, Tim doubts any of them would expect the truth in this situation.)

Tim clamps down on the rest of what he was going to say.

Jason's mouth thins and his eyes narrow and Tim knows this is going to go nowhere good, Jason still not over the mess in Europe.

He can see Jason gearing up to say something, shake an explanation out of Tim, but there's Spitfire.

Spitfire and the little war she's waging against Jason because the jerk's forever stealing her spots around the Brownstone, teasing her with cat toys held too far out of her reach unless she jumps, and breathing wrong, probably. (She's a very odd, very cranky cat.)

Spitfire claws her way up the back of the couch and launches herself at Jason's feet, and Tim moves out of the way because he knows this isn't going to end well. 

Jason swears, bolting upright as Spitfire manages to get her claws at just the right spot where boot and ridiculously colored socks end and leg begins. It's a terrible move, really, that causes Spitfire to dig in harder, ears pinned back and this terrifying sort of growling coming from such a small body. 

“Shit,” Jason says, going completely still. 

“Pretty much,” Tim says, watching the standoff taking place in front of him. “I'll go get the medical kit.”

Jason shoots him a dark look.

“Hey, wow, no,” Tim says, holding his hands up. “You're the one who started this, I told you there was no way you'd win.”

Jason may have started this war between man and cat, but Spitfire's definitely going to end it.

********

“Robin.”

Tim winces, hunches a little more into his cape like that's going to save him from this...this whatever Dick's going to say, do.

“Hey, Nightwing.”

Not Bruce, which has the potential to either be a good thing, or a very bad thing. 

Good, because Dick. Bad, because this could be Dick acting as a diversion while Bruce investigates the reasons all the bugs and cameras and everything at the Brownstone keep going dead when Tim's not there. (Jason's a special kind of idiot who instigates small-scale wars between both cats and Bats just to see what will happen.)

Or worse, this could be Dick being _Dick_.

“Oracle had some interesting things to show us, little brother.”

Dick pauses, moves closer like he knows how tempted Tim is to just jump over the side of the building to avoid having this talk.

“You never said anything about being into older men.”

And Just like that it's Dick and Tim up on the rooftop, not Nightwing and Robin.

Tim stares at Dick, who smiles, this slow process that Tim knows starts at the corner of his eyes the mask covers at the moment. After that it just kind of takes over Dick's entire face with how much a complete and utter jerk he is.

Tim should know better, he should, but he's still parsing Dick's words when Dick grabs him off the gargoyle and put him in a headlock, laughter in his voice as Tim struggles uselessly.

“What? Ugh, oh, God, Dick. _No_ ,” Tim splutters, wishes he hadn't given in when Jason asked him not to tell Bruce and Dick who Red Hood is until they figure it out for themselves. “Why would you even think that?”

Dick plops them down on the roof with the gargoyle to their back and Gotham's skyline rising up above them.

“Bruce says Red Hood bears a significant resemblance to your mystery friend in Europe. Which, you know, he bases on grainy security camera footage he and Babs managed to find and that little photo of him that ended up all over the news.”

Tim groans, drops his head because he knows the footage Dick's talking abut. He has a copy of it on his laptop in a folder he keeps labeled _Europe Vacation – Best Ever_.

It's full of news articles and grainy security stills and footage and there's a sub folder of the pictures Tim took. (All of it hidden behind security that would take intent to find, so of course Jason's seen it. It's Bruce and Dick he's trying to keep out – at least until they find out about Jason.)

It's from a camera placed near the warehouse that went up in a fiery explosion. Jason lurking, watching the fuzzy blur that was Tim with an emergency blanket around his shoulders in the back of an ambulance talking to officials. 

Tim hadn't known about it at the time, that Jason had hung around to make sure Tim was okay. He'd only found out after returning to Gotham, Bruce being worried and concerned and wanting to know how the hell any of that even happened. 

Dick hums, hand scratching Tim's scalp, gentle and familiar and Tim tries to jab him with an elbow because he's not a pet, but Dick just shifts his hold. Resting his chin on Tim's shoulder.

“The helmets even match.”

There's a wealth of amusement in Dick's voice, and Tim sighs.

Trust Jason to pick a color scheme and stick with it.

********

“Just to be clear, _Jeff_ ,” Jason says, and he's never going to let Tim live that down, is he? “What did you mean before?”

Tim blinks up at Jason who, like a good Bat, is looming over Tim as though he honestly thinks that will work on him.

Especially with Spitfire standing on Tim's chest, fur fluffed, back arched ears back. She's not growling, yet, not about to go for Jason's throat - _yet_.

“Jason?” 

Jason leans down, flicks Tim on the forehead.

“Ow.”

“Deal with it, punk,” Jason says, “and answer the damn question.”

“What question?”

Jason sighs, like Tim's being difficult on purpose, which.

Not fair, because Tim is genuinely confused right now.

“Okay, let's try this out, you little shit. When I told you to call someone before we went on that magical mystery road trip around Europe, who'd you call?”

Tim doesn't freeze so much as he goes carefully still.

“Um.”

“Right now I've got two guesses, and they're both assholes.”

Tim rolls his eyes, running a hand down Spitfire's back to try and calm her before she really does make a try for Jason's throat. 

“...Dick,” Tim says, and focuses his attention on getting Spitfire calmed down rather than face whatever expression is on Jason's face.

There's a long moment of silence, broken by Spitfire's growling, sharp intake of breath from Tim when she takes a swipe at Tim, claws out, before she just. Melts, this tiny, cranky little pile of resentment who nudges impatiently at Tim for ear scritching and petting.

“Bossy little thing, isn't she?”

Forced lightness from Jason and Tim looks up, sees the crooked smile on Jason's face.

“Well,” Tim says, careful, probing. “She takes after you, so - “

Jason barks out a laugh, and sits down next to Tim who is sprawled over the couch, feet hanging off the end. “Are you fucking kidding me? Little princess takes after you, not me.”

Tim thinks that's the end of it, the weirdly careful unbelievably awkward probing Jason's been doing with regards to Tim's life, but no, no.

“Why Dick?”

Tim shrugs, an awkward thing in his current position. 

“I needed to check in, let them know I was going to be longer than I thought, and he was voted most likely to be reasonable about things.”

A pause, significant in nature.

“Again,” Jason says, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Tim laughs at the incredulity in Jason's voice because he has a point.

********

Bruce corners him on a rooftop.

“Subtle,” Tim says, corner of his mouth quirked. 

There's a fair amount of scowling going on, Bruce being all dark and intimidating.

Well, he's trying to be, but Tim's seen the man's morning hair (or their equivalent of), and it's a little hard to be intimidated by someone with all that going on.

“Robin.”

Tim crosses his arms and waits.

Watches Bruce clench his jaw, hears the sub-vocal growl as Tim completely fails to be cowed by Batman in all his glory.

And it's not like Tim doesn't understand, he does.

But there's Jason and his issues and a matter of trust.

Jason asked Tim not to reveal his identity, and no matter how much Bruce and Dick are going to make him regret keeping this secret, keeping Jason's trust is more important.

“Hey,” Tim says. “Oracle says there's something going on by the docks. Think we should check it out?”

It's not reallly a sigh, exactly, more like an exhale with a tad more force behind it than usual, but then Bruce drops his tall dark and menacing air and things are (almost) back to rights between them.

********

“This place is a dump.”

Jason ignores Tim in favor of being unconscious, or just faking it really well.

When Tim moves closer he can see Jason's managed to slap a messy bandage over the worst injury and made a passable attempt at dealing with the rest. 

Not great, really, but better than Tim had hoped for when Barbara told him Red Hood had sustained injuries on patrol earlier.

Barbara's keeping Bruce and Dick busy hunting down the rest of the gang responsible for this, giving the two of them a little breathing room here.

“Hey,” Tim says, watching Jason's eyelids flicker. “You look like something Spitfire coughed up.”

Jason's mouth twists, eyes opening to glare at Tim.

“The hell are you doing here?”

Tim shrugs, moving slow, nice and easy as he pokes through Jason's medical kit. Setting aside the supplies he's going to need.

Jason's watching him, not really suspicious so much as - 

No, okay. That is Jason's suspicious face, with a touch of his _what the hell is going on right now?_ face thrown in for good measure.

“Seriously though,” Tim says, stripping off his gauntlets and setting them aside. “This place is a dump. Do you actually live here or just come here to bleed dramatically?”

Jason could do better, is the thing.

Sure, Tim's personal life is a mess right now, but the Brownstone is free and clear and there's more than enough room for Jason to claim some space for himself. The furniture and carpeting have been treated, because this life demands such things

Tim's told him this, but so far Jason seems content to pester Tim at random moments and coming back to dreary little places like this to spend his nights, which.

Fair enough.

Jason needs his own space, but Tim would like it if cockroaches and rats didn't also happen to share the same space.

Jason's eyes narrow, and - 

Right, okay, yes.

Dangerous vigilante who has killed in the past, although he hasn't since coming back to Gotham.

Also, though, _Jason_.

The guy who can't seem to get one over on a tiny, cranky cat they've managed to adopt. Who crashes Tim's patrols and delights in tormenting Bruce and Dick. Who thinks it's hilarious that Bruce and Dick think Tim and Red Hood have a _thing_. (As Steph put it when Tim told her about the horrible mess that is his life at the moment, Cass quietly laughing at his suffering, _”A true and pure love that transcends age”_.)

“Little of column A, little of column B,” Jason says, watching Tim as he snaps on a pair of latex gloves with maybe a little more flair than necessary. “Should I be worried about this?”

Tim shrugs, gesturing at Jason to sit up so Tim can deal with his injuries and not let them get infected and gross, to use a medical term.

“Probably.”

Tim smiles at Jason, the same one he treats Bruce and Dick to when they've managed to something spectacularly stupid. 

“I mean, I've never taken an official class or anything like that. Just a few lessons from a guy in a cave, but I'm sure everything will be fine. I mean, honestly, how hard can this really be?” 

Jason stares at him like he's just starting to realize Tim has to deal with Bruce and Dick on a regular basis, and as such, has developed unique ways of handling their combined idiocy.

“Oh my God,” Jason says, “I'm going to die.”

Tim waits a beat, used to this now, and true to form - 

“Again, I mean.”

********

Technically, Tim lives at the manor. Has been placed in Bruce's care for the duration.

There are. Not interviews, really, but appointments with well-meaning people who are so very concerned about the ordeal Tim went through abroad. 

He grits his teeth and lies and lies and lies – although occasionally there are truths, seeded in there.

They're pleased to see Tim's coping so well, and Tim smiles, small and shy and attributes it to Bruce, to Dick who's been staying at the manor lately, and Alfred.

These well-meaning people smile and smile and smile and take notes. They bring in doctors or have Tim go into the city to make sure his injuries are healing properly, and there are more smiles and notes and Tim's face aching from all the smiling he's doing, carefully measured.

And then when that's all over, there's Alfred. 

If Tim's lucky, there's a batch of cookies ready or some small task around the manor that needs to be seen to. Something Alfred just hasn't had the time to get to, what with the trouble his boys get into with alarming regularity.

If he's curious about the fact that Red Hood seems to have followed Tim overseas, or concerned that Tim never stays at the manor, well.

It's _Alfred_.

He gives Tim two containers of cookies to take with him when he leaves and a little smile, and Tim can't help but smile in return.

********

“Yeah, he definitely knows,” Jason says, nibbling on one of Alfred's cookies. “I mean, he made my favorite.”

Tim looks at Jason, eyebrow raised.

Jason shrugs, careful, because Spitfire is lounging along the back of the couch behind him. “It's Alfred, I don't question these things.”

Even though Jason seems unbothered by the fact Alfred knows who he is, there's a note in his voice that worries Tim.

Jason shrugs when he sees Tim looking, shoving that little spark of fear away where no one can see it.

“Barbara knows too,” Jason says, expression turning wry. “She hacked my comms a few weeks ago after you patched me up, gave me a talking to like you wouldn't believe.”

Tim just looks at him, because yes, Tim would, actually. Has been on the receiving end a time or two, been witness to Bruce and Dick getting theirs.

Jason laughs, spraying cookie crumbs everywhere., “Wow, yeah, no. Given the shit I've seen you pull, of course you know what I'm talking about.”

“Shut up,” Tim mutters, making a grab for the cookies Alfred sent for Jason. 

Jason goes all steely-eyed and dangerous - Red Hood all the way – and tackles Tim off the couch, growling out a suitably menacing, “Hands off the cookies, punk!”

Tim snorts a laugh, but he's got a mission – Alfred's cookie or bust – and if he has to go through Jason to get them, that's what he's going to do.

********

“I can explain,” Jason says, hand splayed on Tim's ribs, Dick climbing through Tim's window, gaze locking on them.

“Please do,” Dick says, and it sounds friendly enough, until you pay attention to the way he's moving as he gets closer.

“ _Jeff_ here,” Jason says, and Tim can hear the smirk over the annoyance, “may have broken his ribs with all his shenanigans earlier. I'm just checking them for him.”

Tim watches Dick mouth 'Jeff' to himself, eyebrows quirking as he looks to Tim.

“It's in my file,” Tim says, glancing at Jason who is watching Dick. “Batman knows.”

Because of course he does, one of those things Tim doesn't question because he's not sure he'd like the answer.

That gets him an incredulous look from Jason who knows the story behind the name after a prolonged stakeout a while back, and an even more baffled one from Dick who very clearly doesn't.

All that, and Tim is still sitting on his couch, top half of his suit off while Jason looks to be getting handsy with him, which is naturally when Dick came into the picture.

It's painfully obvious Dick is jumping to all the wrong conclusions thanks to Dick being Dick, Bruce being Bruce and Tim's horrible luck.

Also, Jason not helping matters at all.

“Christ,” Jason mutters, pulling away from Tim. “Bastard's gotten creepier since I've been away.”

Tim can't stop the grin that breaks out at that, or the quiet little huff of laughter even though it aggravates his ribs.

Dick cocks his head, no doubt filing that little tidbit away for later.

“And how are his ribs?”

“Bruised,” Tim says the same time Jason answers, “Broken. So amazingly broken.”

Dick sighs, relaxing fractionally when Tim glares at Jason who shrugs unrepentantly. 

“What? You want a different diagnosis, don't do stupid shit, okay? It's not exactly rocket science here, you know.”

And oh, _oh_.

“Really.”

Jason's eyes narrow.

“So that time with - “

“Oh for fuck's sake, shut up,” Jason snaps, turning his head to glare at Dick who is smiling faintly. “You too, Goldie.”

Dick freezes, Jason goes tense beside Tim, waiting for Dick's reaction, and Tim - 

Tim is staring at Bruce lurking on his balcony. Following along behind Dick to check on Tim, probably, and getting more than he was expecting.

Not really the way Tim expected this to play out – he was thinking more along dramatic thunderstorms and yelling, really, because of the way this family operates – but this works too.

********

“Tim.”

Tim doesn't flinch, no, just.

“Bruce.”

He turns, careful, because his ribs _are_ broken, and finds himself facing Bruce.

Bruce who looks the same level of conflicted he has ever since Jason decided the hell with it and let his identity slip.

Because Bruce knows, about Red Hood. 

The time he spent in Europe before Tim ran into him, or more accurately, when Jason stumbled over Tim.

He knows because he's Bruce and obsessive only begins to scratch the surface with him, especially when one of them is involved.

First Tim, and then Tim _and_ Jason, and just.

Complicated is putting things lightly, but.

But Jason's been in Gotham for months now, and the worst he's done is break a bone or two. He's following Bruce's rules, looks like he thinks they're stupid, pointless sometimes, but he's doing it, and Tim's never said anything either way.

It's Jason's choice.

Jason deciding to come back to Gotham. Telling Dick and Bruce, who he is.

All of it.

Dick and Jason are struggling towards some kind of understanding, and if that included a few sparring matches that got a little too intense, Tim isn't going to say anything.

Barbara and Alfred already knew, and Cass knew something was going on with Red Hood, but she didn't know. Steph thinks everything's hilarious, but had stopped long enough to hug Tim and tell him he did good, bringing Jason home like Tim had anything to with it.

And then there's Bruce, who.

He's having a little trouble, still, and Tim gets that, he does.

There are still times Tim looks at Jason, locked in battle with Spitfire or bickering with Dick, and wonders how any of them got this lucky.

Bruce sighs, this tired little smile taking form. “You look tired.”

Tim's eyebrows go up at that because holy hypocrite, Batman.

“Dick and Jason,” Tim says, making a face. “They've been 'taking care of me'.”

Which.

Sweet? But also incredibly annoying because they're trying to one up one another in who can tend to Tim in his “delicate state” the best, and Tim honestly doesn't know what's going on.

Dick turns into this peculiar breed of mother hen when one of them is hurt or sick, but Jason.

He's gruff and grumpy, almost resentful as he makes sure Tim isn't actively dying, cups of water and pain pills appearing without ceremony within reach. Things like that, worrying while trying to look like he isn't, and Tim's gotten used to that.

This.

This is something else entirely, and Tim's retreated to the manor for his own sanity, knowing Alfred will put a stop to it when he sees what's going on. (Probably?)

Unexpectedly, or maybe not so much so, Bruce laughs, smile turning warm and true. “I thought as much, they used to do the same with me.”

Tim bites his lip, because the look in Bruce's eyes - 

“I could tell you about it, if you agree to get some rest? Alfred wouldn't be pleased to see you up and about in your state.” 

Bruce's smile slips towards a smirk there at the end because he's _Bruce_ , head of this family made up of horrible human beings. It only makes sense he'd be the worst of the lot.

“I.” Tim swallows, crooked little smile on his face. “Blackmail material sounds great, actually, yeah.”


End file.
